Walk in Another Man's Shoes
by Shannonigans
Summary: What happened to Vaughn after Sydney found him in the premiere? Vaughn's POV


_"When I was a kid, I was a swimmer.  I could swim the hundred metres in 68 seconds.  I can't tell you how irrelevant that was that night we were in Taipei.  There have been some pretty incredible inventions over the last 2000 years, but none more incredible than the screwdriver.  None.  _

_I thought I was home free.  But they knocked me out.  Next thing I knew, I was in France."_

_*_

**Taipei**

I thought I was prepared for the slam of the water against me.  I was wrong.  It crashed over me, slamming me painfully into the door.  But that wasn't what hurt me the most.

It was the desperate look on Sydney's face; a look I know was mirrored on my own.  Her eyes reached out to me, even though her hands could not.  She grabbed the fire extinguisher and, using a strength that defied her petite frame she began pounding on that door, her sole purpose to save me.

She was distracted.  Distraction can be fatal.  Luckily, in this case, it wasn't.  But I was running out of oxygen, and couldn't wait for her to fight that guy, and then go back to her valiant but fruitless efforts to save me.  I had to take matters into my own hands.  

I can't imagine how she must have felt to look back through that window, and see me gone. 

I swam.  When I was a kid, I was a swimmer.  I could swim the hundred metres in 68 seconds.  I can't tell you how irrelevant that was that night.  My lungs were bursting, my chest aching, a million bruises letting their presence known.  I was in a sea of pain, waves of agony crashing over my body.  Yet still, I swam, searching desperately for a way out.  Then I saw it.  My ray of hope.  A small vent, in the ceiling above me.  I swam up to it and started to unscrew it, all the time mentally thanking the inventor of the screwdriver.  There have been a lot of incredible inventions over the last 2000 years, but none more incredible than the screwdriver.  None.  I was nearly out of air by the time I finally pulled the grate off.  My head burst through, and I sucked down precious oxygen.  Only then did I allow myself to think about how I was going to get out, and meet up with Sydney again.

I don't know how long I floated there, breathing deep breaths.  The vent led up to some kind of vertical shaft, which looked almost impossible to climb, especially in my sodden clothes.  I still don't know how I managed it, the soles of my shoes gripping to the sides as I pulled myself up.  But I made it, and that's all that mattered.

I thought I was home free.  I dropped down back onto solid ground at last, and then jogged around the corner.  I was careless.

It nearly got me killed.

The man could have shot me a dozen times before I even noticed he was there.  Fortunately, he just backed me up against the wall.  Then… blinding pain, and nothingness.

**Capferrat, France**

I drifted in a drug-induced haze, barely aware of what was going on around.  There was only one thing that I was truly aware of- that I was cold.  I was also strapped to a metal gurney, but I only became aware of that when someone started undoing the straps.  I struggled to regain consciousness, but something was fighting me.

"Vaughn!  You have to get up, we have to run," someone hissed desperately, pulling at my hands and slapping my face.  She sounded familiar…

"C'mon, c'mon, they're going to be back in a second…" She left, and I heard someone smash some sort of cabinet.  I knew that person.

"Syd?" I tried to ask.  I don't know whether she heard me or not.  Then she was back.

"I am so sorry," she whispered urgently, sounding extremely apologetic.  "I am going to shoot you with adrenaline.  We have got to run."  Adrenaline.  Oh, this was not good.

"Uh… don't do that," I managed to say, but it was too late.  Agony shot through me, and I screamed.  Suddenly I was alert, sitting bolt upright on the gurney.  Before I even had a chance to gain my bearings Sydney grabbed my hand and dragged me out of the room.  

I stumbled along after her, becoming more and more aware as we went, yet more and more confused as to where I was.  The muted sounds of a party drifted down the stairs to where we were standing, and Sydney frowned at me.

"You're going to be noticed dressed like that," she said absently, more to herself than to me.  I looked down, noticing for the first time that I was only wearing scrub pants.  Sydney turned to me, still frowning.  "Wait here," she whispered and disappeared.

I huddled in the alcove, shivering.  It seemed she had been gone for ages, yet I knew that it had only been a few minutes, maybe less.  Still, relief flooded through me when she came back, holding a shirt.  She handed it to me, grabbed my arm once more and dragged me from the building and outside into the cold.  I began to shiver in earnest, and wrenched my arm back to pull on the shirt.  We climbed through a thicket of trees and into a small cleared area, Sydney in front.  I came up behind, doing up the buttons on the shirt.  My fingers brushed where she'd injected me, and I winced.

"Ow… that hurt," I commented.  Sydney looked at me anxiously, and I instantly regretted saying it.

"I'm sorry," she started to say.

"Don't be…" I interrupted, looking around in confusion.  "Where are we?" 

"France," she said matter-of-factly.  I gaped at her, astounded.

"France?  Really?  France…" I looked around some more, wondering how I'd managed to end up in France, then looked back at Sydney.

"There's so much to explain…" she started, then trailed off.  "You can get back to LA, right?  I have to get back to Dixon."  She looked me over worriedly, as if unsure if she should leave me.  I smiled at her.  "What?" she asked.

"You saved my life," I said, still grinning.  She stared at me for a minute, then smiled slowly back.  Then she was gone.

*

I could feel the adrenaline beginning to wear off, and berated myself for wasting time Sydney had bought me.  When the effects of the drug wore off I could feel that my body would crash, like a marionette with it's strings cut.  I knew it was inevitable, yet still I dreaded it.  Vowing to use the few hours left as best I could, I set off.

It was nearly dawn when I reached my destination.  My bare feet were raw from the harsh ground, and I was bleeding from a dozen small cuts when I finally stumbled into the house.  The house where my father first taught me to play hockey.  The house my mother couldn't face, yet couldn't bear to part with.  The house I used to call home.  My father's presence still lingered, embedded in the very foundations.

Under other circumstances, I would have savoured the moment, basked in the memories, but I had precious little time left.  I stumbled through the room, knocking over a lamp and tripping over furniture until I reached a phone.  I am infinitely grateful that phone had never been disconnected.  I lifted one shaking finger and dialled a number that I knew almost as well as my own.

"Eric Weiss," came the gruff reply.  "I'm in the middle of something, so make it quick."    I cleared my parched throat.

"Eric?" I asked hoarsely, suddenly realising that I was desperately thirsty.  I was uncomfortably aware of how chapped my lips were.  

"Mike?  Is that you?" Eric asked urgently, his voice strained with an emotion I couldn't identify.  "Agent Bristow informed us that she'd located you.  We've been trying to get in contact with you for hours, where are you?  How are you?"

"The house…France…" I mumbled tiredly, leaning against the wall and rubbing my eyes.  "I'm fine… tired."

"Okay," said Eric, sounding worried and relieved at the same time.  "We can have a team out for you in about twenty minutes.  Stay on the phone until they arrive.  Are you sure you're fine?"

I backed against the wall and slid down it, resting my head on my knees.  I couldn't muster the energy to reply straight away.

"Mike?  Mike?  Are you there?" asked Eric anxiously a few minutes later.  I nodded slightly, then realised that he couldn't see me.

"Still here," I mumbled.

"I know you're very tired Mike," Eric said soothingly.  I felt mildly outraged that he was treating me so carefully, but was too exhausted to stay anything.  "I need you to stay awake until the team arrives.  Talk to me about something," he suggested.  So I talked to him.  I doubt that anything I said made any sense, but it keep me awake which was all that really mattered.  Soon after the extraction team arrived I was sedated, and fell into blissful oblivion.

*

When I woke again it was dark outside. I was lying in what I instantly identified as a hospital bed.  Eric was slumped over in the chair next to me, fast asleep, so I assumed that I had made it back to LA safely.  I shifted to get more comfortable, accidentally waking him up.  He sat up straighter, ran a hand through his hair and blinked blearily.  Then he realised I was awake, and pulled his chair closer to the bed.

"Hey.  How are you feeling?" he asked.  I shrugged.  "You arrived here this morning," he explained in a whisper.  "The doctors say that there shouldn't be any after-effects from the drugs- aside from dehydration and a few cuts and bruises you're fine.  Though you've got a hell of a black eye forming."  I paused for a moment, trying to absorb this sudden onslaught of information.  Then I frowned.

"Sydney?" I asked, my voice still hoarse and croaky.  Eric raised an eyebrow at me.

"She's fine.  Better now that we found you.  You sure gave everyone a fright Mike," he said.  I thought for a minute.

"When can I go home?" I asked after a moment of silence.  My throat was painfully dry, and I reached vainly for the glass of water on the bedside table.  Eric passed to me, and waited until I'd finished drinking before answering.

"You need to stay overnight, but you're free to go in the morning," he answered, placing the glass back on the table.  "And it's not a moment too soon.  Donovan's been whining for days."  I grinned, but could feel myself starting to drift off to sleep again.  I fought valiantly to stay awake, holding it off for another few minutes but Eric must have noticed.  He patted my shoulder, standing up and stretching.

"Good to have you back Mike," he said, before leaving.  

**Author's Note:**** What did you think?  Was it in character?  Please review, especially constructive criticism.  **

  
  



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